Worth A Thousand Words
by Denaliyasha
Summary: Pure fluff. Goren watches Eames sleep, and Eames finds a picture. It's all cheese, and it was my seeing how little I could use their names, as well as how I could spin nothing to something. Have fun!


Disclaimer: God, I wish it were mine. Oh well.

A/N: Ok, this is set post the episode they just showed on USA. I never manage to catch the episode names. Anyhow, you only need to know two things, which I will now tell you. First - on a stakeout, Eames was sleeping, and Goren poured a cup of coffee and waved it under her nose to wake her up. It was very cute. Second - Eames is questioning a suspect's girlfriend, and says something along the lines of "He's just like my partner. All HE wants is to be left alone to do what he does best, catch bad guys." Goren, Deakins, and Carver are watching and Goren got this... interesting look on his ace. Oh, and this episode (and therefore the story) is post-Eames' pregnancy. Has anyone else noticed I like to study the characters in these things?

**Worth A Thousand Words**

She'd looked so tired; he'd offered to let her crash at his apartment. Of course, she'd insisted that SHE sleep on the couch because, as she'd put it, it was a nice couch but he sure as hell wouldn't fit on it. So now, he was doing the same thing he did whenever he could; watching her sleep.

He noticed that her tiny frame was still slightly too large for his sofa. Her eyes, usually so piercing and observant, were closed. She had one hand wrapped up under the pillow and the other was laid protectively across her stomach. A soft smile tugged at her mouth, and he wondered what dream she was having that would cause such a reaction.

God, it was good to have her back. Trying to function without her had proven to him that he couldn't. No one would ever be able to replace her, as his partner or in his heart.

She was like one big walking contradiction. She was fragile looking, but probably harder to break than he was. She was small, almost dainty (although he'd never dare say that to her face), and yet one had a tendency to forget that. She could be so BIG, so impressive, that she seemed eight feet tall and made you feel about two inches high. She worked hard to make sure that everyone knew that she was a woman, a good cop, and kicked ass, but she could turn around and convince people that she was innocent, naive, and gullible. Deceptively simple, but incredibly complicated all at the same time.

As he watched, she shifted, losing part of the blanket. While he replaced it, he thought about what she'd say if she knew what he was doing. Probably asking again if he ever slept. She'd argue that now, there wasn't so much to do, so he should be sleeping.

She'd moved again, obviously uncomfortable on the too-short couch. Why had he let her take the couch when he'd known he wasn't going to be using the bed? Oh, yeah, she'd pointed out that he'd gotten less sleep than she had the last few days and therefore needed it more than she did. Disagreeing would mean telling her that he wasn't going to sleep, and that would have opened a whole other can of worms. Well, since he wasn't planning on dozing off any time soon...

He picked her up, careful not to wake her, and carried her to his room. He put her down, pulled the covers up around her (noting that she reverted to the same position as before) and headed out to the now deserted couch to read a case file until morning.

She knew before she was fully awake that she wasn't on the couch anymore. It just... smelled too much like her partner to be anything but his bed or his medicine chest, and since she was pretty sure it wasn't the latter...

She pondered this turn of events, not opening her eyes. He'd moved her from the couch to his room. That meant that he, the perfect gentleman that he was, had either slept on the couch, or, more likely, not slept at all. She sighed, finally swinging her feet off the side of the bed and looking around the room.

It was the first time she'd ever been in his bedroom. There weren't many personal touches, but then, she hadn't expected any. He wasn't the sort of person to be sentimental over the past; he lived more in the present and future. The nightstand held a lamp, a mystery novel with a bookmark about a third of the way through, and a picture of his mother. She smiled at the book, guessing that he wouldn't ever finish it because he'd already worked out the who and why.

Standing up, she noticed two things. One was that he'd thoughtfully moved her shoes from the living room to the inside of the doorway. The second was that there was only one other picture in the room. It was of them, at some official function that they'd gone to together. They were dancing, one of her small hands clasped in one of this much larger ones, the other on his shoulder. His free hand was on her back, pulling her towards him in an almost possessive gesture. They were smiling, happy, and looked completely oblivious to there being anyone else in the room.

She paused, staring at the feelings stamped on both their features. How had she missed it at the time? She supposed that she'd been too wrapped up in trying to hide her own emotions to notice his. Now to go ask him about it...

Socked feet making almost no sound on the carpet, she padded out to the living room. Stopping in the doorway, she smiled at the sight that greeted her. He was sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, a file open in his lap. His eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling in a regular pattern that indicated sleep.

Pulling out her cell-phone, she ducked into the bathroom and called Deakins. She reminded him that, while they could be reached, this was their day off and they would STRONGLY prefer not to be. Then, she went and found her partner's coffee machine and made them both coffee. Carrying the cups back to the other room, she waved his gently under his nose.

"How'd you sleep?" He took the cup from her hands with his eyes still closed. They didn't open until he'd taken a large sip of the hot liquid.

"Fine."

She smiled. "I highly doubt that. You gave me your bed, then fell asleep sitting up on the couch. That couldn't have been very comfortable."

He shrugged. "It was fine. I wasn't that tired anyway."

"Let me guess. You figured you might as well give me the bed since you didn't think you'd be sleeping?" At his guilty look, she chuckled. "I know you so well."

He looked up at her, suddenly intense. "You have one very important thing wrong, though."

Startled by the change in mood, she blinked. "I do? What?"

"You told that woman that I just wanted to be left alone to catch the bad guys." At her puzzled looks, he shrugged. "I don't. I need someone else there."

"Oh." She tilted her head. "Why?"

"To remind me of who I am." He was starting to wonder if she'd put alcohol in the coffee, because he couldn't picture himself ever saying this sober.

"Oh." She smiled. "That explains why your only photos are of your mother and us. Your mom's your family, and I help you get out of the criminal mind."

"Yeah." They both stared into their cups.

Finally, the silence got to be too much for her. "Hey, Bobby?"

He glanced up at the use of his first name. "Yeah?"

"About that picture in your room..." She set her coffee down on the table, and he did the same.

"Yes?"

"You're looking at me like... well, like I'm yours."

"You're my partner." He was hoping she'd accept his explanation, and move on.

"But..." She waved her hands around a bit, as though trying to pull the words out of thin air. "But, I'm looking at you the same way, and I sure as hell wasn't thinking about my partner."

"Oh." A smile started to creep across his face. "Are you sure?"

"Very." Her tone was brisk, but there was an underlying thread of vulnerability.

He pulled her down off the arm of the couch where she'd been perched. She ended up sitting next to him, head leaned on his shoulder. "That's why I kept the picture."

"Huh?" Being in this position had driven all rational thought from her mind.

"I could pretend you were looking at me the way I was looking at you."

"I was." She pulled the folder off of his lap. "Well, let's see if we can figure out who killed..." she checked the name. "Alexis Sherwood."

A few minutes of quiet reading later, she poked him. "Bobby? I want a copy of that picture."

A/N: Please review. It would make my day so much better.


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